Part 32 (2/2)

Unashamed, he smiles. ”Maybe, maybe not.” d.a.m.n, he looks good. It didn't escape my attention yesterday and last night that he's packed on more muscle in the past couple of years. He also grew another inch.

My coat gets tossed over the desk chair and, slinking his way, I give him a seductive look. When I'm just inches from him, I place both hands on his pecs, making his eyes go wide at my forward behavior. Lips mere centimeters apart, I bring my knee up hard into his crotch. As his face registers what I just did with a mixture of shock and pain, I back away. ”Like I said, we're not having s.e.x.”

He drops to his knees, now giving me a dirty look. Still not talking because of the pain, he's cupping himself intimately. After breathing in and out a few times, he wheezes out his next words, ”A simple 'no' would have worked.”

I bring up one shoulder in a casual shrug. ”I like my method more. Your face was priceless.” Feeling filthy from the club and that creep's place, I spin around, walking towards my bedroom. I stop to unzip both boots and fling them into a corner. Then, before I go through the doors, with my back to Gabriel, I slip off my shorts and corset, giving him a view of me from behind in nothing but a black G-string. I know I'm being a royal b.i.t.c.h, but the boy has it coming. f.u.c.ker shot me.

I hear him groan, but in a different kind of pain this time, and slam the door shut behind my mostly naked self. Mentally, I'm chortling evilly right now. Once in the bathroom, I strip out of my remaining garment, the now infamous G-string, and turn on the shower. When the temperature is as warm as I can get it without the risk of being scalded, I step in.

Unfortunately, I still haven't had time to stop at a drugstore and pick up real shampoo and conditioner, so I'm stuck using the c.r.a.ppy hotel stuff. That always puts me in a bad mood. I'm contemplating what color to dye my hair next, maybe a dark red, when the shower door is swung open.

Due to my ingrained sense of defense, because I never know when someone's going to try to kill me, my elbow shoots out sideways. Gabriel catches it with one hand, making a tsking sound. ”Baby, now you're just getting predictable.”

I swing my free fist towards his gut but he catches that one with the other hand then spreads our arms wide, gazing down at my wet body. ”Beautiful, baby. But you forgot to give me the full frontal out there. Thought I'd correct your mistake. Wouldn't want you losing sleep over it later.”

”I locked the door.” I don't bother faking false modesty, let him look. Nothing he hasn't seen before.

”No, you didn't,” he disagrees, dropping my arms and moving away. Surprisingly, he's looking at my face while conversing. ”Subconsciously, you wanted me to come in here and join you.” His clothes start coming off and I can't help but take a peek at his naked form. Talk about hot. He's making the steaming shower look bad. I lean my head back under the water and bring my hands up to rinse the conditioner out of my hair.

When I feel his hands on my hips and hear the soft slam of the shower door closing, I s.h.i.+ver despite the warmth of the water. His hips move against mine and I can feel down below that he's recovered from the injury I inflicted earlier. Opening my eyes, I look up to stare directly into his. They're hot with desire. For this one moment, everything freezes and I'm brought back to a time in the past. A time when we loved each other and when I so foolishly made him my world.

”Annabelle,” he whispers roughly, leaning down. His lips meet mine in a desperate kiss, soft and rough at the same time. I allow it, allow myself to have just this. My arms come up around his neck. Our wet chests are pressing against each other. Skin to skin, there's no part of our bodies that isn't touching. I haven't felt this need in so long. d.a.m.n him.

He lifts me up off the porcelain floor so that my feet no longer touch the ground, with the water spraying my back. I'm encased in heat on both sides. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grip his muscular back. His lips leave mine and run down my chin and throat. One night won't hurt . . . .

”I love you so much, baby. I've been so lost without you. Please say it, I need to hear it. Tell me you still love me, Annabelle.” His pleading words of love cut into a wall that I thought I'd made impenetrable.

The sob escapes my throat before I can stop it, before I can stop the wracking tears. That quickly, the moment turns from one of arousal to one of pain, regret and sadness. Leaning against the shower wall, Gabriel holds me until the water starts to run cold. I vaguely perceive his words of sorrow, ”I didn't mean it, baby. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Never again. Please forgive me, Anna. I need you so much.”

The jolt of cold water hitting my back pulls me out of my vulnerable daze and I slowly return my feet to the floor. He releases me and, not meeting his gaze, I pull a fluffy white towel off the bar, wrapping it around myself. Grabbing another one, I wrap it around my dripping wet hair. The sound of the water shutting off comes from behind me.

Reentering the bedroom, I throw off the towel and grab a powder blue short pajama set out of my suitcase. I'm dressed by the time Gabriel comes out of the bathroom, wearing only the black boxer briefs he had on before. We just look at each other for a minute or two. Standing with his feet slightly apart, he clears his throat, looking unsure. ”What now?”

”Now you leave,” I softly say, ignoring the pain in my chest. Ignoring the pain in his green eyes.

”Baby, I can't,” he replies hoa.r.s.ely.

Not wanting to acknowledge his feelings, I walk over to the bed and start pulling down the comforter and sheets. Throwing off five of the Eiderdown pillows, because really, no one needs six pillows on a bed, I pretend that I'm not bothered by his presence. I grab a small loaded gun out of my suitcase, check the safety and place it under the pillow. ”My flight is tomorrow at noon, Gabriel. Even if you don't leave now, I'll be leaving then.”

He walks over to the pillows on the floor at the end of the bed, picks one up off the ground and places it next to mine. ”I'm going with you.” Meeting his piercing stare, I see his resolution.

”No.” Simple and to the point. The last thing either of us needs is the other. We're just too . . . combustible together.

”Why?” he stubbornly asks, crossing his arms over a well-defined chest.

”Uh, I don't know, maybe because you shot me.” I climb onto the bed on my knees, facing where he's standing.

”I love you.”

”And I don't believe you.” Lifting up the comforter, I lay down underneath it.

”Forgive me.” Dropping his arms from the defensive position, he circles around the bed to stand over me.

”I do.” Turning my head to the side, I look up at him.

”No you don't, not really. Forgive me, Annabelle.” Always seeing things I don't want him to, he's been trouble from the start.

”Fine, I don't and I can't.” Will it make him happier to hear the truth?

His hand digs under my pillow, pulling out the gun. Staring up at him, the thought briefly crosses my mind that he's going to shoot me again. The memory of him doing it the first time is still fresh, like it happened two days ago, not two years ago. The emotional pain didn't fade the way the physical did.

He holds it out to me. ”Take it.”

Cautiously, I do. ”What now?” I mimic his earlier question.

He holds his arms out wide, taking a few steps back. ”Shoot me.” Stopping when he comes up against an armchair, he stands there with expectation written all over his handsome features.

Gabriel Anna glances down at the gun thoughtfully, her brows drawn together. ”Why?”

Knowing it's going to hurt like h.e.l.l, I go on, ”The way I see it, for us to be together again, you need to forgive me.” I gesture to the gun. ”So, do it. Shoot me. It'll put us on equal footing. I love you enough to prove it to you in this way.” Tapping an index finger on my torso, where I think one of my lungs is, I tell Anna, ”Right here.”

Her eyes go to the spot on my skin where I pointed. She looks sad, but slightly intrigued at the same time. ”I don't want to.”

”Anna,” I urge recklessly, ”I need you to do this.”

Her face crumbles and a few tears stream down. ”I can't.” She swallows visibly. ”You see, I do love you. More than you ever did me, obviously. Unlike you, I'm not capable of pulling the trigger.”

At her words, I rush forward, climbing onto and over the bed. Sliding under the blanket with her, I pull her up against me, kissing her wherever my lips happen to land. Her tears taste salty on my lips. She's soft in my arms, smells so fresh and sweet.

As she shakes her head, I pull my head back to look at her face. ”No, Gabriel. I can't do that with you.”

”I know, I understand. I'll just hold you tonight, baby.” And I do. She falls asleep moments later after letting out a shuddering sigh. I blissfully hold her while contemplating tying her up to make sure she's still here in the morning. I'm afraid to fall asleep, you never know with this one. At least an hour later, as I drift off to sleep myself, I feel optimistic about us. She admitted that she still loves me and, even though I already knew it, hearing her speak it out loud is momentous.

The next morning, open curtains are letting an annoying amount of sunlight s.h.i.+ne on my face. It takes only a second of consciousness for me to remember where I am and why. But most importantly, who I'm with. Turning to the side, I swing out a searching arm for Anna.

She's gone.

Lifting my head up just enough to utilize both ears, the hotel suite is quiet. I curse my ability to sleep so heavily and jump out of bed. Gripping the bedroom doork.n.o.b, I yank the door open, making it slam into the wall. I'm sure my expression is one of surprise to find Anna and Jackson standing in the living room of the suite, dressed like young professionals. Suitcases are neatly lined up next to them with the handles raised.

Anna raises the gun she's holding.

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